


So Close to Happiness

by ToxicLaughter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellamy is a janitor, Cancer, Hospitals, M/M, More tags to be added, Murphy is a cancer patient, Sadness, fuck life yo, more characters to be introduced - Freeform, murphy is bae
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:04:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7286428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicLaughter/pseuds/ToxicLaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murphy is diagnosed at fourteen. He thinks that maybe it’ll make his mother stop drinking. It doesn’t. It makes it worse. It makes it all worse. </p><p>OR </p><p>The one where Murphy has cancer, Bellamy is a janitor, and they fall in love over chocolate pudding.</p><p>(ON HIATUS UNTIL OCTOBER 2018)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trying to Keep It In

**Author's Note:**

> Love these two. Mostly Murphy. He's my sweet evil bean.
> 
> Title based off of Hoodie Allen's song of the same name.

It could be worse. He could’ve puked right on the guy. Instead he managed to keel over and force out the stomach acid onto the floor. He thinks it shouldn’t hurt this much to vomit. Closing his eyes, he clenches his teeth and groans, trying to get his torso to relax. The janitor, who no doubt is already cursing him for having made a mess, is currently freaking out. He’s tossing his mop to the floor and running out the door of his room, yelling into the hallway for a doctor.

It would be funny if Murphy could get past the burning in his throat.

Soft hands grab his shoulder and pull him up into a sitting position. “John?” It’s Abby. He doesn’t mind Abby. “John? Do you feel like passing out?”

He coughs. “I told you,” he rasps. “It’s Murphy.” She gives him a pitiful smile. It’s rare nowadays, that he actually manages to get out a snide remark. She helps sit him back on the bed, moving to adjust his pillows so his neck isn’t straining to look at her. She does a quick once over of him and all the beeping equipment around him. The janitor stands there, watching, the whole damn time. Murphy wants to tell him to beat it, or at least to do his job, then beat it, but he can’t get his mouth to move. 

“The vomiting and nausea are just side effects of the treatment. I’m not terribly worried about them.” She said, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “I am worried that it’s hurting you to vomit. Rate the pain one to ten.”

“Seven.” He says without thinking. He’s felt the top three before. He’s felt them all actually. His eight, his nine, and his ten. Puking lactic acid up onto the floor at two in the morning was nothing close to any of those. 

She scrunches up her mouth, picking up Murphy’s clipboard. It’s blue. Mostly because he bitched about having the same boring brown one as every other patient in the place when he practically lived there. Abby brought him in the blue clipboard the next day, saying it was a present from her and her family. He gave her a thumbs up and, using one of the nurse’s stolen pens, wrote his name on the back of the board. 

Abby scribbled something down on the top sheet and set it back in its place. “I’m going to lower your dosage.” He knows that she expects him to argue, to throw a fit about everyone in the hospital treating him like he’s a fragile piece of glass, but he’s tired and all he really wants to do is to tell her to buzz off and take the janitor with her. “Try to get some sleep, okay?” She says, attentively placing her hand on his leg. He wants to pretend that she was his mom.

The janitor stays to clean up the mess, floating around the room as he disinfected the floor then proceeded to wipe down every surface in the place. The whole room smells like Clorox by the time he’s done. Murphy catches him staring out of the corner of his eye when the guy is cleaning the bedside table. Figuring that he could probably waste the time and oxygen to at least snap at the guy, Murphy adjusted himself in his bed and cross his arms. “What?”

“Hmm?” The guy stops what he’s doing and finally gives the patient on the bed his full attention. “Do you want me to leave?”

“I want you to stop staring at me.”

“Sorry, I…didn’t even realize I was doing it.” 

“Is it your first day or something?”

The guy shrugs. Murphy catches sight of his name tag. Blake. Stupid name. “Sort of? I normally work on the first floor.”

Murphy smirks. He really should get to bed, but he thinks that his night might be better off spent making fun of this asshole. “Oh, I see, you’re used to all the balloons and flowers and the ‘It’s a Girl’ banners clogging up the trashcans, not blood bags, needles, and hair, huh? You’re used to cleaning up spilled coffee and watching people who might be sad, but are healthy. Not cleaning up piss and watching people die. Makes sense.”

The guy glares at him. Murphy wants him to say something back. He wants him to make a snarky remark. He’s begging for him to treat him like he’s not dying. Instead the guy picks up his things and leaves the room. 

Resting his head back into the pillows, Murphy resists the urge to regurgitate again.

 

He wakes up in the morning not remembering falling asleep a few hours earlier. There’s a tray of breakfast foods, mostly fruits, some toast, and what he thinks might be ham. He knows that the nurses will be back soon and he’ll get an earful if he doesn’t finish the whole damn thing. So he starts with the cantaloupe.

The nurse with the chipper personality comes in to clean up the dishes. He hates this one the most. She’s always telling him to smile, ‘you’ll feel better’, she’d say. He’d attempt to yell at her, tell her how hard it was for him to just wake up in the morning. He never does. “Need anything?”

“Pudding?” He asks quietly.

“I’ll ask the doctor.”

 _Just give me the damn pudding_. He thinks.

She doesn’t return with any pudding. 

Murphy closes his eyes, already feeling exhausted. He’s tired all the time now. Getting up and going to the bathroom (that’s in his damn room) feels like running a marathon. Sleeping has become more common for him than eating, naps a daily task. Abby tells him to not sleep as much. “I know you’re tired John, but try to stay awake during your treatments.” She always points out that he’ll never get better if he doesn’t fight the disease. 

Murphy tells her he’ll never get better either way. Abby tells him to shut up.

The hospital is busy that day, he thinks, watching the people pass by his windows. His room draws a few sets of eyes, mostly because of all the decorations he’s had the hospital staff put up for him. The ceiling is adorned with streamers of all different colors, the walls covered in posters of bands he’ll never see in concert and movies he’ll never watch on a screen bigger than the 32” TV in his room. 

He knows it’s loud. He also knows that he’s using it to talk to people without having to himself. ‘Look how crazy I am’ the room says. 

When he’s sleeping the cleaning staff comes through his room. He peeks open an eye to see a familiar face. With as much effort as he can manage he waves to the male janitor. “Back again Blake?”


	2. He Must Be Italian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so fucking glad people really like this story/AU. I'm having so much fun *cries a little* writing it. Nah, but for realz. Thanks for the fantastic comments and do expect many more chapters.

The first time he had been in a hospital it was when Octavia was born. She had been a pretty loud baby, crying nonstop for the first couple of weeks. It took a toll on their mother. A very big one. She became cranky, withdrawn, a shell of a person really. Bellamy had become a parent very young. He remembers how exhausting it had been to raise Octavia. He remembers her puking on his favorite tees, her breaking her arm for the first time, her first day of school. Everything.

The second time he’s in the hospital it’s because his mother was dying. 

The third time he’s applying for a job.

A few years had passed since then, he had yet to move up the bureaucratic ladder, but he had moved up a few floors. Bellamy didn’t mind mopping floors. He wished that he wouldn’t have gotten kicked out of the police academy, sure, but his backup plan of being a janitor didn’t suck all that much. 

Plus, the hospital staff wasn’t that bad. Obviously there were a few choice assholes, but overall they were all good people. In particular, he enjoyed the company of the other janitors and handy-workers around the hospital. Raven Reyes, the resident ‘fix the broken shit’ girl, was one of his better friends. She was sarcastic, hardworking, not a complete douche, and he didn’t mind the company she brought with her.

He didn’t really speak to many of the doctors, they were their own little clique, but he did know a few decently well. One, Abby Griffin, he had gotten to know very well over the years. She had been the doctor to reset Octavia’s arm when she was younger, and she, at one point, had been the mother of his girlfriend. Clarke, Dr. Griffin’s daughter, hadn’t been one of Bellamy’s best decisions. 

They had been great friends, eventually getting to the point where they figured that maybe they could make a relationship work. They couldn’t. They broke up after a few weeks. He still talked to her though, still had movie nights where she cuddled into his side and would mumble something along the lines of ‘don’t get any ideas’, and he still would meet her in the cafeteria during lunchtime to hassle her about her dessert choices. 

When he got moved up to the fourth floor, the floor aptly named ‘The Death Floor’, he was pretty sure he had done something to piss someone off. His boss had made it very clear that he didn’t care what Bellamy said, he wasn’t going to change his mind. Bellamy had tried to explain that he liked his comfy seat on the first floor. He liked seeing balloons announcing the birth of a new child, he liked seeing pregnant woman walk in with big grins on their faces. He didn’t like watching people die.

But that’s what he was going to be doing for the foreseeable future because the universe fucking hated him. He would be mopping the same white tiled floor but instead of looking up to see beautiful bouquets of flowers, he’d see pale faces and crying family members. 

On the bright side, he thought, they had also switched him over to the night shift. No one’s family visits at night. So he’d be spared that agony. He’d still have to look at all the death though. 

Not to mention that guy. That fucking guy – who he should probably be nice to – who fucking smarted off to him on his first day on the fourth floor. First he puked up all over the goddamn floor, right after Bellamy had just finished cleaning it, then he proceeded to basically tell Bellamy that he might as well kiss the old days goodbye because from now on he’d be rolling bodies down to the morgue. Okay, maybe he didn’t say that. But it was pretty fucking close.

But alas, Bellamy Blake said as little as he could to the guy. The last thing he needed was to get written up for cussing out a patient. 

He dreads heading back to his room the second day. He wonders if he could get someone else to do it for him. He radios Raven to see if she’s up for it. She tells him to man up. Clarke had already gone home for the day, sick of hanging around the sick. He tries just about everyone he knows who’s qualified for the job. He ends up having to do it himself.

He waits for the nurses to do their walk-through, picking up medical equipment, fluffing pillows, checking the A/C unit to make sure the room is at the perfect temperature for a decaying human being, and writing down the patient’s schedule on the whiteboard next to the TV. The last nurse to leave gives him the thumbs up and holds to door open for him so he can get the mop bucket through. 

Once he got assigned to this guy, he thinks his name is John, Dr. Griffin, coincidentally enough his primary care physician, had sat him down to talk about how to and how not to clean John’s room. “Don’t touch the posters. Or the streamers. Don’t touch the DVD collection either they’re in some kind of order – I don’t know what – and if you mess it up he’ll have my head. DO NOT ever, EVER, touch any of the shoes on the floor. They’re scattered about, I know, but just mop around them. And please, for the love of god, don’t forget to wash the windows.”

He never does.

He doesn’t get very far into the room when John starts speaking. “Back again Blake?”

Bellamy just nods and smiles. As much as he’d like to tell him that yes, he is back, he’ll be back every day from now on, he keeps his mouth shut.

“You like a mute today or something?”

“Nope, just trying to do my job.”

“You can do your job and talk at the same time. Unless you’re one of those people who can’t chew gum and walk at the same time. Are you one of those people Blake?”

“What would you like to talk about then?”

He can _feel_ the fucker’s triumphant smirk from across the room. “What’s your first name?” He tells him. John tells him his is Murphy. Bellamy knows that’s a lie, but he lets it slide. He figures he’s got a reason to go by Murphy instead of John. “How old are you?” Bellamy tells him again. He thinks about lying. About cutting off a few years. “Cool, I’m nineteen.”

Bellamy just nods. A big part of him wants to ask why. Why is he here? What’s his disease? He figures if he really wanted to know he could always check the chart. “You got any family Murphy?” 

“Yeah, brother. You?”

“Sister.”

“Have you always wanted to clean floors?”

“Have you always not had a filter?”

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

“Suck a huge dick.” There’s a pause while Bellamy chuckles. “Answer the question.”

He sighs and places his bucket and mop in the corner of the room, grabbing the chair normally reserved for visitors and sitting down next to the bed. Murphy sits up. “No, I have not always wanted to clean floors. I was going to be a cop.”

Murphy laughs. “Fucking nark!”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Bellamy thinks that maybe Murphy isn’t all that bad. Maybe he’s just sour from sitting in that bed all day, just waiting to die. He’s so young too. Not unable-to-buy-cigarettes young. But young.

They talk for a little while longer. Bellamy finds out that Murphy really likes animated movies. He calls himself a slut for Disney. Then he proceeds to recite a few band names that Bellamy googles only to find out that they’re all very heavy death metal bands. _This guy is zero to sixty_ , he thinks, watching Murphy adjust himself in the hospital bed as he talks. He finds himself staring at the tubes coming out of his arms. 

“It’s cancer.” Murphy says. “Of the kidneys, to be exact. Ironic really.” He doesn’t say why.

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

“That’s why I told you.” He scratches at his neck. “Look, don’t treat me like every bit of me is fragile. Yes, I’m dying. Yes, my body fucking hurts all over. But I’m not some wimp fifth grader who can’t take a joke or can’t tell you why he’s hooked up to three different machines. I’m a big kid. I can take it.”

Bellamy smiles the best he can. “Well now that you’ve said that, you’ve released the beast.” Murphy calls him lame.

He leaves when Murphy falls asleep mid-sentence. He forgets to wash the windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a little OOC in my opinion, at least for Murphy. I don't really see him getting along with people very well, ever. But, as I wrote this I was thinking - he's dying. He's got nothing left. So why not make a friend? We see him do this with Raven, with Jaha, with Emori. Death makes him nice. Kind of. 
> 
> Three things before you go, just in case you were interested. 
> 
> The title of the chapter comes from A Christmas Story where the dad gets the lamp and he reads 'fragile' as 'fr-gee-lay' then proceeds to say it must be Italian. Murphy is constantly being called fragile. Voila.
> 
> Also, the fourth floor being the 'death floor' is actually a HUGE legend (saying?) in China and Korea. Because the Chinese symbol for four is the same as the symbol for death (and Korean draws a lot of Chinese), it is considered very unlucky. Like the number thirteen in the western world (some buildings in China/Korea don't even have a fourth floor). *yay random culture lesson*!
> 
> And lastly, I'm well aware that Murphy does not have a brother in the series. Nor does he here. You should know who his 'brother' is and if you don't...well then god dammit man, get on your shit yo.


	3. Teen Spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in the span of 24 hours! That's soooo not like me. Anyways, I had to get this chapter out. It's short, really just here to introduce the rest of the characters. And yes, I did add the matha fakin Clexa tag because they are so fucking cute I love it and the end of the third season didn't happen shut your face.

She stunk up the whole elevator. At least if the looks she got were any indication. Clarke Griffin smiled every time someone turned around to look at her. The giant bouquet of lilacs, ranging from dark violet to pale white, released a perfume strong enough waft its way around the small enclosed lift. When the doors slid open she waited for everyone else to exit before following out behind them and heading for the more residential section of the fourth floor. She passed by Murphy’s room, taking a peek inside to see him squinting out the window.

Clarke waved. He flipped her off. She stuck out her tongue, but kept walking. She ran into a few of the other patients she had grown to know. Monty, who had practically lived at the hospital his whole life, was sitting on his bed, oxygen tubes stuffed up his nose, hands busily moving chess pieces. Across from him sat Nathan Miller - who, much like Murphy, went by  
his last name – the only cystic fibrosis patient still living in the hospital. She smiled at them both as she passed.

Careful as to not bump into any of the busy nurses and/or doctors, she made her way to one of the farther rooms from the elevator. She didn’t knock and instead swung the door open. From the bed a head of brunette hair perked up, then softly grinned. “I love lilacs.”

“I know,” Clarke said, setting the flowers down on the bed side table. “I saw these and knew that I had to get them. How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Lexa Woods, one of the more intimidating members of the Trikru reserve, was also one of the few that actually trusted outside medical attention. Diagnosed at sixteen, Lexa had been plagued with the uncertainty of multiple sclerosis. Clarke had met her when she had spent her first week at the hospital. Lexa had been extremely hostile towards the staff, screaming every time someone tried to touch her. She’d claim that she was fine, could do it herself. Then would be found collapsed on the floor in pain. 

Abby wasn’t very fond of the girl, especially when Clarke started keeping her company. But she tolerated her, kept her as healthy as she could, and did what she could to keep Lexa comfortable.

Recently Lexa had been losing her vision. She would walk into people, walls, squint when reading a book or watching television. It broke Clarke. She hated watching her crumble. Her mom, however, had said that Lexa would most likely live a full life. She might die a decade or so prematurely, but she didn’t expect for the girl to die anytime soon.  
Clarke grabbed Lexa’s hand as she sat. They didn’t speak for a long time, just sat there and listened to each other breathe. Lexa’s doctor came in to check in on her. Abby came in to check in on them both, bringing with her some Jello from the cafeteria. The three eat while the television plays in the background. Abby leaves after the second episode of Deadly Women.

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?”

“Are you proposing?” Clarke said with a grin.

“The last thing I want to do is tie you down Clarke. I’m nothing but chore.”

“Hey, whoa, don’t be so pessimistic. I’d be ecstatic to marry you.”

Lexa sighed and slid down in her bed. “I’m not being cynical Clarke. I’m being realistic.” Clarke thinks she doesn’t like reality. They don’t talk much after that; Clarke doesn’t ever answer Lexa’s question for the second time. 

They kiss before Clarke leaves, Lexa’s hand shaking as she placed it on the other girl’s cheek. Behind her, she closes the door, making sure to press the red button as she leaves, ensuring that the staff will give Lexa her privacy.

She runs into Bellamy on her way out, he’s still dressed in what she assumes are his street clothes, blue jumpsuit draped over his arm. Next to him Raven was seemingly on her way out with her motorcycle keys in hand. She smiled at them both. “Hey guys.”

“Hey,” Raven said, twirling her keys on her finger. “How’s the girlfriend?”

“Same old, same old. How’s the boyfriend?”

“Wick is not my boyfriend; he is my shitty coworker who _thinks_ he can fix the fancy schmancy hospital equipment. Here’s a secret – he can’t.” 

Clarke raised her brows and turned to Bellamy. “And Octavia?”

“Being a teenager. And thanks to you and your commander over there she’s met a _fine_ young man on the reservation.” He slurs the word fine and Clarke resists the urge to slap him. Instead she just pats his shoulder and tells him it’s about time he cut the umbilical. “You headed out?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’ve got homework to do, tub of ice cream to eat. The usual.”

“I’m sorry to hear you’re so busy.” She laughs as condescendingly as she can, before bidding them ado. Raven tells her to wait in the lobby for her, she’ll be down as soon as she gets her wallet – Clarke agrees. 

“She loves Lexa a lot.”

“You think?”

“Shut up Blake.” Raven bumps his shoulder with hers. “I wish I had what they have.” Neither of them bring up Finn.

The employee lounge on the fourth floor was the unspoken haven for all non-medical professionals in the hospital. Raven and Wick had outfitted it out with its own entertainment system, fridge, and what Bellamy thought was a security system (equipped with full functioning lasers [supposedly]). 

Raven threw open her locker, letting it slam into the one next to it, and pulled out her wallet. “So, you gonna see your dying love tonight?”

“Lexa’s not dying. And he's not my love. I barely know him.”

“Ah, but he is. Dying at least.”

“Raven.”

“What? I’m just being realistic.”

Bellamy briefly thinks he doesn’t like reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have trouble writing Raven and Clarke. Lexa isn't too bad because she's kind of like Murphy but with even LESS emotions. Raven and Clarke are very strong characters but also very caring in certain aspects so I tried to at least show that with Clarke. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. The next chapter will most likely be up in a week or so. Maybe sooner with the way things are going. 
> 
> ALSO: In all modern AUs I see the grounders as Native Americans, just because it makes sense to me. So that's why there are mentions of a 'reservation'. You'll learn in the future that this is Tondc. 
> 
> Not sure about featuring Trigedasleng in this....if anyone has any good online translators that'd be cool. Then Lincoln could come in and be like, "yo, heada, love me"
> 
> Okay I'm done. Sorry not sorry.


	4. Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day early bitches!
> 
> Enjoy?  
> Enjoy.

Three weeks into working on the fourth floor he finds that he doesn’t mind being around Murphy as much as he thought he would. Murphy is loud, annoying, a bit of an ass, but he’s also a wiseass (which is both amazing and infuriating) and one of the humblest people in the hospital. Bellamy figures out very soon that Murphy loves to play checkers, not chess, he likes watching Ancient Aliens on the History channel and explaining to anyone in the room that aliens are already ‘among us’. He discovers that while Murphy’s room is littered with heavy metal band posters he loves to listen to soft indie and classical music. 

He lets Murphy in on the fact that he’s Clarke’s ex, that he has a younger sister, that he was once going to be a police officer, and that he doesn’t mind keeping Murphy company at two in the morning. 

Bellamy introduces Murphy to the wonders of Pictionary and Raven Reyes. Reyes finds the cancer patient insufferable, constantly complaining about him. Behind closed doors however, when Murphy can’t listen in on their conversations, she expresses her sympathy for him.

Four weeks into working on the fourth floor he shows up to work a few hours early, searching for Dr. Griffin. He finds her on her lunch break, biting into a piece of pizza with a tired look on her face. He smiles as soon as they make eye contact and plops down in the seat across from her. “Bellamy,” she says, swallowing her bite. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”  
“I have a few questions. About Murphy.”

“Well there is a certain amount doctor-patient confidentiality I have to keep Mr. Blake, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“I am. I just want to know why he’s here and not at home.”

“He is extremely sick Bellamy. The boy can barely get up and go to the bathroom.”

“I know that. But I also know that when someone is as far gone as he is they are typically sent home to you know…live out their last days in peace.”

Abby sighed and set the rest of her lunch back down on its plate. “Johnathon Murphy doesn’t have anywhere to go home to.” Bellamy just nodded. “Is that all you needed to know?”

“What about friends? Or extended family?”

“Bellamy,” she said sternly. “I think it would be best if you asked him these questions.”

“You really think that he’ll give me a straight answer.”

She shrugged. “I think if you think that you two are close enough that you need to know this information, then so does he.”

Five weeks into working on the fourth floor Bellamy finally grows a pair and confronts Murphy about his past. He figures that Murphy knows a lot about his family, his father’s death, his mother’s breakdown after Octavia was born, even about Bellamy’s time in the police academy. Yet, on the other hand, Bellamy knew very little about Murphy’s family. Clarke was more than unwilling to tell Bellamy anything, Raven refused to do recon for him, and the other patients on the fourth floor all told him the same thing. “Murphy hasn’t told me anything.”

So that night, before he even grabs his mop and bucket, Bellamy makes his way to John Murphy’s room with a conversation starter already in mind. “How come no one but me visits you?”

“Wow, rude.” Okay, so maybe he could’ve had a bit more tact, but Murphy had made it very clear that he hated small talk, and if you needed to speak to him about something specific then you needed to get to the point as quickly as possible. He opens his mouth to apologize, but Murphy cuts him off. “You’re not the only one. My brother comes by every once in a while. But he’s been busy with school lately and I don’t want to bother him.”

“What about your parents.” 

Murphy snorts. “They’re dead. And if they weren’t they probably still wouldn’t come.” Bellamy nods. He’s not that close with his mother, but he also doesn’t think she’d leave him a hospital to die alone. “But hey, who knows? You might get to meet Mbege one day.”

“Who in the hell names their kid ‘Mbege’.”

“It’s not his first name dipshit.”

“So what? You and your brother have different last names.”

“Well he’s…” Murphy trails off. “Yeah, we’ve got different last names.”

Bellamy distracts Murphy from whatever is in his brain by talking a little bit more about Octavia. Murphy likes to hear about Octavia and her new boyfriend just as much as Bellamy hates hearing about Octavia and her new boyfriend. The guy was twice her size, taller than Bellamy by quite a bit, and definitely not someone he wants to mess with. He comes from the Native American Reserve nearby the hospital and just so happens to be good friend with Clarke’s girlfriend Lexa.

Murphy seems not so surprised to hear that the two are together. “I don’t get out much. And gossip travels through molasses here.” He grumbles when Bellamy jokes about Murphy being too dense to notice that they were officially together. 

Six weeks into working on the fourth floor Bellamy finds Murphy sprawled out across the floor with his arms behind his head and his feet up on the bed. Bellamy’s first reaction is to call out for a doctor, but then he sees the bubble coming from his mouth and calms down. “Where’d you get the gum?” He says, moving to lay down next to him and mimics his posture. 

Murphy lolls his head to the side and hands Bellamy the pack. “Things people leave in their lockers.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be bed ridden?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“Touché kid, touché.”

Another bubble. It pops in the silence. 

“Do you think I’m gonna die?”

Bellamy turns his head on the cold tile floor to see Murphy doing the same. Their eyes meet and all Bellamy wants to do is tell Murphy he’ll live to a hundred. “I don’t know.” He says instead. “Do you want to die?” Abby and Clarke have told him on multiple occasions how people with advanced stages of cancer act. They start to get suicidal near the end. He wouldn’t put it past Murphy to want to die.

“Not anymore.” He says softly. 

Bellamy wants to kiss him then. He wants to press his lips to those thin ones and kiss that blank ‘I’m going to die’ look off his face.

Murphy tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling. Bellamy wants to whimper. “I trust you Bellamy.” 

He thinks that’s as close to ‘you’re my friend’ as he’s gonna get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really just a way to fast forward to the point where Bellamy and Murphy are close enough (and have known each other long enough) that the idea of making out or being together would come up in either of their heads.
> 
> And yes, I know it's kinda short. I can't write 3k word chapters yo.
> 
> So there may be smooching in the next chapter. IDK. Is it too early for kisses or nah? Lemme know what you want and ye shall receive.


	5. Act Naturally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update! I've been uber busy lately. Moving and whatnot. So in return I made this chapter a little longer! Also cute stuff and maybe a happy ending???? Maybe.

Part of her wants to wake him up. The other part tells her that he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in a few years. So she holds onto the folder and waits for him to naturally awaken. Abby hated poking and prodding at John’s skin. She hated drawing his blood on a daily basis and sending him in for extensive x-rays and MRIs every week. He’d look at her with such exhaustion she’d just want to call it off so he could go back to sleep. But those tests, the needles and the machines, they were the only hope for John. She needed to do all she could to keep him alive. Even if it meant making his life a living hell.

Clarke joined her at some point, asking if she was alright. “You’ve been standing here for half an hour mom.” She mumbled, looking through the window to see Murphy breathing softly. “Is everything okay?” Abby passed over the folder. Clarke read over it with physician eyes, glancing up at her mom when she finished. “Isn’t this good news?”

“It’s fabulous news.” She said softly.

“Okay…” Clarke murmured, confused. “Then what’s the problem?”

“There is none. I just don’t think I can go in there without crying.”

“I can do it. If you’d like.”

Abby nodded. She couldn’t bring herself to say those words. She was happy beyond belief, don’t get her wrong, but she knew that as soon as she said those words he’d look up at her with hope, then disdain. He’d ask ‘what’s the catch’ and expect her to either say that she was kidding or that he’d have to give up a leg or two. So instead she let Clarke open the door to John Murphy’s room and approach his bed.

She watched through the window, already feeling tears fall when John’s eyes opened. He cracked a joke to Clarke and then sat himself up. Settling down in the chair next to the bed Clarke placed the folder Abby had given her on his lap. He glanced at it. Clarke motioned towards it. Murphy carefully picked it up and peeled it open as if a snake might jump out from between the pages. 

She watched through the window. She watched his eyes widen, watched the smile split his face, watched him throw his blankets off his legs and jump out of bed. Abby stared in awe and he cheered and flung the door open. “Fuck you, cancer you piece of shit! I ain’t going out that easy!” He shouted at the top of his lungs. Abby found herself laughing and out of the corner of her eye saw Clarke doing the same. Murphy went to run down the hallway but quickly tired out and nearly collapsed to the floor.

Instead he collapsed in the arms of a certain janitor who looked deeply troubled by the sight of Murphy laughing. He looked up at Abby to see her just motion towards the patient in his arms.

Murphy looked up and found his footing so he could throw his arms around Bellamy’s neck and hug him tight. “Hey…Murph…good to see you too…I guess. What’s going on? Why aren’t you in bed?”

Softly pushing the janitor away, Murphy grinned brightly up at him. “Just thought I’d go out for a run.” He said, winking. Bellamy rolled his eyes. “You wanna come with? I was gonna make a stop by the cafeteria for some of that chocolate pudding. I heard it’s worth the cancer.”

“Murphy.” Bellamy chided.

“Don’t be such a stiff. C’mon, let’s go.”

“Actually, John,” Abby said from a few feet away. “Even though your test results came back negative you’re still under bed rest.”

“Negative?”

“Bed rest? Fuck that.”

“Language.”

“Wait, can someone explain to me what is going on?”

Murphy patted Bellamy on the shoulder. “Carry me to bed and go get me some pudding and I’ll let in on all the gossip big guy.”

“Big guy?”

“Just do what you’re told.”

“You are a bossy one, aren’t ya?” Bellamy picked Murphy up anyways, slipping one arm under his knees and the other under his shoulders. They had done this before. Murphy would feel the need to throw up or go to the bathroom at three in the morning and when Bellamy would do his hourly check he’d find him moaning in pain on the floor.

The first few times Murphy had out right refused help. But once Bellamy manhandled him into his arms Murphy had slowly become more accepting of the other man carrying him.

Softly placing the patient on his bed Bellamy let Clarke pick up all the blankets and tuck Murphy back in. He of course complained the whole time. “Bellamy I swear to god if you get me that shit that calls itself butterscotch pudding I will rip your dick off. It’s chocolate or bust. I mean it. Hey! Are you even listening to me!?”

“Has he been like this since the start?” Bellamy asked, ignoring Murphy and placing all of his attention on Clarke.

“He was worse when he first came here. I’m pretty sure that he tried to kill two fellow patients. Not that we can prove it.” She whispered the last part so Murphy couldn’t hear her. That seemed to annoy him the most.

“Stop talking about me dammit. Bellamy go my chocolate fucking pudding.”

“Murphy.” They chided in unison. Murphy pouted. So Bellamy went and got his ‘chocolate fucking pudding’.

He came back to find that Abby and Clarke had wandered off to other parts of the hospital. Murphy was still awake, but only barely. It was nearing midnight and the kid had gotten up and ran around for a minute or two which was the most Bellamy had ever seen him do. He must be more than tired. “You’re back,” Murphy murmured, sitting up more in the bed. “Took you long enough.”

“And here I thought you were going to thank me for getting your pudding.”

Snorting, Murphy took the pudding from Bellamy’s hand. “Fat chance.”

“Do I at least get to know what got you so excited?”

“You believe in second chances Bellamy?” Bellamy shrugged. “I don’t. I think if you fuck up, that’s it. You’re done. Tainted for life. And that was me. I fucked up, got cancer. But,” he smiled and stuck his spoon in his mouth. “I guess I did something right, because now I got you.” The words were garbled and mumbled around the spoon, but Bellamy understood each one.

“Me too.”

“What?”

“I must’ve done something right too. Because I got you.”

 

The next day Bellamy arrives at noon. He’s tired beyond belief but he doesn’t really mind. Murphy’s already got his shoes on, pants pulled up but unbuttoned. Bellamy brought him a shirt to wear, one of his old high school tees that fit the skinny man’s frame almost perfectly. Abby had commandeered a wheelchair for them and Bellamy reveled in the fact that he got to push Murphy around wherever he wanted. Murphy complained the whole time, as per usual.

They say in the elevator to get to the top floor, Bellamy wheeling them over to a door labeled ‘ROOF’. “Stairs? You gonna carry me the whole way?”

Bellamy grinned. “I was planning on it, yes.” Murphy tried to hide his smile but failed, raising his arms so he could wrap them around Bellamy’s shoulders. The taller of the two reached down and grabbed Murphy’s thighs to pull him up onto his back. He grinned when they were all ready to go and threw the door open. He had left it unlocked from the night before so he didn’t have to worry about bringing his keys while he wasn’t on duty. 

The roof was hot, the sun beating down unrelenting, but Bellamy had taken the opportunity to bring a beach umbrella to the roof for at least a little shade. He carefully set Murphy down next to the umbrella and ran off to go grab a bag full of food. Most of it was pudding. Murphy really only ate pudding. He stretched out his legs as he sat down next to the patient, pulling out a few pudding cups and spoons. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

“No problem,” he grinned and swayed over towards Murphy to bump their shoulders together. Murphy chuckled. “Anything to get you out of that room.”

“Yeah…I needed some vitamin D in my life.” He smirked. “And you can take that in whichever way you want.”

“You offering something?”

“In your dreams.” Murphy grumbled, biting his bottom lip to keep from smiling. “Hey Bellamy,”

When he was first diagnosed, Murphy didn’t want to go through all the treatments.

“Yes, Johnathan?”

He was more than willing to wither away. To just give up and let the cancer overtake him.

“Do you think that tonight you could…”

All of his family was gone anyways. Father dead, mother drunk and soon-to-be dead. Mbege was really the only one left and Murphy didn’t want to stop him from living his life.

“…sleep in my bed…”

Abby Griffin had been the one to convince him to go through with the chemo. She promised him that she would do all that was within her power to cure him. He had laughed in her face.

“…not like sexually or anything…”

Clarke Griffin had been the one to convince him to interact with the other patients. She introduced him to Nate and Monty, to Lexa, to other doctors. He had been an asshole at first, he admits, but after a while he warmed up to them – and they to him. Now he couldn’t imagine his life without Lexa’s snide comments about his smell or Monty’s constant tinkering with his TV. 

“…I just don’t want to be alone tonight…”'

After a while though he began to give up. They weren’t making any progress with the chemo and all the experimental drugs did was put him in more pain.

“…if that’s okay.”

“Is something wrong?” Bellamy sounded like he was about jump up and beat the shit out of whoever – or whatever – was making Murphy sound so broken.

“No I’ve just been alone for a long time. And I don’t want to be alone anymore.” _I don’t want to die alone_ he thought. But he wasn’t dying anymore. At least according to that piece of paper in that folder. 

“Yeah okay.” Bellamy muttered, barely moving his lips.

“Promise me.”


	6. Reindeer Games

“I promise.”

“If I die I will come back and haunt your ass for life.”

“Just do it already.”

Octavia rolled her shoulders and jumped in place, trying to hype herself up, before taking a deep breath and taking a running start at the gurney placed a few feet in front of her. She bent her knees and launched her body on the gurney at the last moment, reveling in the feeling of weightlessness as she slammed onto the plastic surface. The moment of her body translated to the gurney and it started to move. Kneeling on the surface she spun her head around in time to see Bellamy and Lincoln running up behind her to give her one last push.

Thankfully the gurney stayed straight, barreling down the linoleum floors at a speed that should make her want to vomit, but instead gives her a rush of adrenaline strong enough to make her hands shake. Nearing the end of the hallway she sees Murphy holding Bellamy’s watching, keeping her time and waiting for the front wheels of the gurney to pass an invisible line in his head. She leaned down, trying to make herself more aerodynamic in the final moments of her run. 

Before the gurney can hit the back wall, Octavia flings herself off, rolling to a stop next to Murphy. “How’d we do?” 

“Five seconds faster than Team Griffin.” Octavia whooped and jumped in the air, smiling down the hallway and relaying the information to Bellamy and Lincoln.

Team Griffin consisted of Clarke (obviously) and Lexa as the gurney riders, and Nate and Raven as the gurney pushers. Team Blake consisted of Octavia and Monty as the gurney riders, and Bellamy and Lincoln as the pushers. Murphy had opted out of the fun and instead was given (“Murphy you can’t just steal people’s watches!” “ _Watch_ me, Blake.”) Bellamy’s watch to keep track of all the times. He had also been given (“ _Stole_. He stole it.”) a whiteboard to write down each run time for each team. Lexa had thought that unfair.

“This is ridiculous, we’ll never win because the _vermin_ has, what did you call it Clarke?”

“The hots, sweetheart, the hots.” Clarke said, trying her hardest, and failing, to suppress a grin. 

Lexa nodded. “Yes, the hots, for Bellamy. This game is unfairly balanced.”

“No more than your god awful eyeshadow.” Murphy mumbled from afar, gaining a laugh out of Octavia. 

“Hey, let’s not be mean to Murphy just because he can’t keep it in his pants.”

“The hell did you say Miller?” Murphy took a few menacing, albeit shaky, steps towards the rest of the gang, only to be stopped when Octavia grabbed his arm and manhandled him into a wheelchair. Nate laughed. “Hey, I can still kick your ass from a chair Miller.” Nate laughed harder.

Bellamy jogged to meet then, taking over Murphy duty from his sister, and pushing him the rest of the way. 

Murphy blames Abby. She’s the whole reason the whole fourth floor thinks he’s either a) in the midst of defiling said janitor of all his innocence already or b) hoping to do so very shortly. Murphy let it slip to the doctor that he may or may not be a little keener do doing the treatments if it meant he got to spend a little more time with Bellamy. Abby, of course, had interpreted this as Murphy’s way of admitting his crush (which it wasn’t, John Murphy doesn’t crush, he _pulverizes_ ). She then went on to tell her daughter, who couldn’t help but tell her overbearing girlfriend the ‘great news’. And knowing Lexa she probably just went off and told everyone else out of pure spite. 

He rests his chin in his hand and ignores everyone’s teasing. “Don’t sulk.” Bellamy whispers in his ear. Which doesn’t make the situation any better because now Raven is looking at him with such a shit eating grin he just wishes he could stand for longer than a few minutes so he could give her what for.

They call in Jasper, the daytime janitor, to take time so Murphy just has to sit on the sidelines. Which soon turns into Murphy sleeping in an uncomfortable position on the sidelines. He wakes a few times to see Octavia either kissing Lincoln in victory or balling her fists when she loses. 

 

 

“Murphy, wake up.” The kick to his foot his much less a kick and more of a gentle nudge. Lolling his head around his shoulders he groans and blinks a few times before looking up into Abby Griffin’s disappointed and pitiful face. He wants to groan louder but stops when she turns to reprimand the rest of the group. To her left, with his arms crossed and his shoulders tense, is Marcus Kane, one of the board members that frequented the hospital the most. To her right is Jaha, Murphy thinks he has a first name, but he honestly could care less because the last time he’d heard anything about the man he was putting people down because there was no longer any hope in curing them.

“Now I know that I’m not looking at three of my staff members, my daughter, and…one, two, three, **four** of my patients recklessly endangering the entire hospital and possibly breaking hospital equipment _in the middle of the day_. Am I?”

Murphy couldn’t help but notice that she left Octavia and Lincoln out of her list, surprised to see that they were just standing off to the side and waiting to be dismissed. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud Griffin,” he croaked, moving to get out of the chair. “We were just having a little fun.” Bellamy was at his side in a few seconds, urging him back into the wheelchair. Murphy brushed him off. “And if anyone should be in trouble it should be me.”

She whirled around and furrowed her brows. “You’re damn right John,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “You’re on the top of my shit list right now because what did I say? I said you need rest. I said if you wanted this to work you’d listen to me and you’d stay in bed like you’re supposed to not go running around and getting yourself hurt.”

“Mom, he didn’t even participate, he kept score and slept the whole time.”

Dr. Griffin groaned and put her head in her hands. “Doesn’t matter. You,” she gestured to Bellamy. “Get John back to bed _now_. The rest of you disperse. Go to where you’re supposed to be. Now.”

And with that everyone left the hallway. Clarke walked Monty, Miller, and Lexa back to their rooms, Raven ushered Jasper back to work and did the same with herself, and Octavia and Lincoln went home. 

And Bellamy pushed Murphy back to his room. And Murphy complained the whole way. “We weren’t wrecking hospital property. We barely even slammed the gurneys into the wall.” He griped, crossed his arms and outright refusing to help Bellamy by opening up the door to his room. Bellamy leaned over the boy and turned the handle, using the wheelchair to push the door open.

“She’s just looking out for you. Sometimes adults have to be mean to keep people safe.”

“You’re saying this like we’re not adults.”

“Sometimes I wonder.” He parked the chair next to Murphy’s bed and rounded it to pick up the smaller man and set him in the bed.

Murphy continued to whine. “I can get in bed myself y’know.”

“I do know,” Bellamy said with a grin. “But I like this better. It gives me an excuse to hold you.”

He fought the urge to give in to his blush and instead rolled his eyes. “You don’t need an excuse for that.”

“I don’t?”

“Wipe that smug look off your face, Blake, before I do it for you.” 

When Bellamy laughed Murphy had threw his pillow(s) at him. When Bellamy didn’t stop laughing Murphy threw a book at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll always see these characters as just kids y'know? Bellamy may technically be an adult but he never really got to be a kid, so he is getting that chance in my fic. Also Octavia is my spirit animal and I wish things would've turned out differently because Octavia&Raven&Murphy are my BROT3 for life. Also I think I read somewhere that the creator of The 100 really wants to convey the fact that Miller and Murphy are friends and in my opinion if they were/are friends they'd be the kind to dislocate the other's shoulder for a prank, laugh for a little while, and only then call an ambulance.
> 
> Also the version of Abby I'm using is Chancellor Abby who has to make hard decisions and come off as a total bitch when really all she's trying to do is keep y'all safe (cough couch CLARKE).


	7. Abandonment Issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the late update! A lot of shit happened in the last few weeks and now that school has started, unfortunately updates are going to be even more sporadic. Plus this chapter is short and kinda has a cliff hanger so I apologize for that as well. Expect the next one by mid-Sept. at the latest.

Bellamy’s out of town when Murphy has his first bad day in months. The pain is unbearable, his insides twisting and his voice going hoarse from all his screaming. Raven’s at his side first, telling him to calm down, the doctor’s coming, he’ll be fine. He doesn’t have the mental capacity to snap at her and instead grips at her jacket. It’s not Abby who comes rushing in this time, instead it’s some male doctor, he’s Abby’s little puppy. Jackson, he thinks his name is.

Carefully, he pushes Raven out of the way, letting Murphy grab the lapels of his white doctor’s coat. Murphy growls and tugs harder, nearly pulling the doctor down on top of him. Working quickly, Jackson yells at some nearby nurses to get him some morphine, holding Murphy down by his shoulders. When the nurse finally gets back with the needle she doesn’t hesitate to inject it into Murphy’s arm though his IV. It takes a few moments, but soon the drugs do their job and Murphy can feel the pain start to slip away along with his mind. 

Softly Jackson pushes Murphy onto his pillows, flattening out his coat. “I’ll call him, you call Abby.” Raven says, not taking her eyes of Murphy’s sleeping form. He looked very _pale_. Sickly. He looked _worse_. Her stomach churned. Jackson doesn’t say a word, instead he just nods and leaves the room, heading for the nearest landline.

Murphy’s still conscious enough to hear Raven dial Bellamy and start talking to him, but he can’t bring himself to tell her to stop. Don’t ruin his vacation or whatever it is he’s doing. Bellamy doesn’t need to know about this. Unable to project his thoughts to her, he just lays and listens to one side of the conversation. “He was asking for you.” _Bullshit. I was_ not _asking for him._

“He was in a lot of pain so Jackson gave him some morphine.” Raven turned to glance at him. “I don’t think he’s in any condition to speak right now.” She nodded a few times. “I’ll let him know as soon as he wakes up.” Murphy tries and fails to mumble out a few words, instead slurring around his tongue and getting fed up enough to just give up. Her smile is one full of pity. “They gave you A LOT of drugs, so you’ll probably be pretty out of it for a while,” she scratches at her eyebrow. “Bellamy’s really worried about you. I think he’s you know…” she trails off. “Whatever. Just try not to die until he gets back, at the very least.”

Murphy manages a smirk.

 

He wakes up to Abby fussing over him, Clarke at her side and Lexa next to her. The two are holding hands. Murphy figures that it’s more for Clarke that it is for that she-witch. He moans so that they know he’s awake and instantly regrets it when Abby’s hands are on his shoulders and her face is in his. “What were you thinking?! Dying like that when I’m not even here,” he hopes that she’s not going to cry. That would be hard to deal with. “If you died while I was here who would’ve done all the paperwork? Jackson sure as hell can’t do it.” Murphy can’t help the laugh that somehow scrapes through his lungs and throat.

“I was just messing around doc, seeing if I could catch a glimpse of those pearly gates.”

Lexa scoffs. “Please, we all know where you’re going.”

“Do you even believe in hell?”

“If it’s a place where you can suffer for eternity, you better bet I believe in it.”

“Ouch.” He opens his eyes the rest of the way to see Lexa barely crack a smile at their bantering before going back to her stoic nature. “What time is Blake gonna get here?”

Clarke softly pushes her mother out of the way to lean over him. Her hands fumble around for a moment before settling on grasping helplessly at the sheets. “He’s on his way now. We sent Lincoln and Octavia to get him.” He can hear the underlining message in that statement. _He’s too upset right now to drive. Too worried. Too flustered. If he got behind a wheel now he’d kill everyone in his way just to make it here to you._ Murphy nods and quietly thanks her for the information.

“We’re putting you back on a higher dose,”

“What. No.”

“I thought you were getting better and I was wrong, and look what happened. Don’t argue with me John.”

He sighs. “Whatever. Drug me up lady. Hell, up the dose tenfold, maybe I’ll actually get to go peacefully.”

“Johnathon.”

“Sorry, just leave me alone.”

“Johnathon!”

“Go Abby! Take your fucking daughter are her bitch girlfriend and fucking leave!” He reaches behind his back and throws a pillow at her.

“It’s for your own good,” Abby growls as Clarke and Lexa slink out of the room. “Don’t get pissy at me for trying to _keep you alive_.”

“No, you’re trying to extend my suffering. All the meds, everything, they’re just fucking with me until my body finally manages to do what it’s been trying to since I was fourteen, and give up. Fuck you, fuck this hospital, and fuck your meds.” He grabs the IV tubes lodged in his elbow and rips them out. Blood sprays for only a moment onto the bed sheets before the tiny needle holes get clogged enough to lessen the bleeding to a slow crawl. Abby nearly slaps him when he throws the bed sheets off his legs and stands, running to his side and trying to force him back into his bed.

He shoves her as hard as he can. “Get offa me.” He stumbles to the closest wall. “Where are my pants?” She doesn’t answer. “Where are my pants Griffin!?”

“John, I can’t just let you walk out of here. You’re not thinking straight. You’re upset because you’re getting sick again.”

“ _Getting sick_? I’ve been sick. I’ll always be sick. I’m going to die being sick. I’m going to die here, looking at your fucking face, hearing the beep of that stupid machine,” he wearily points to the electrocardiogram. “And wondering why my mom just left me here!” He finds a pair of pants and struggles his way into them. Doing his best to storm over to the door, he mumbles out a, “get outta my way” and is surprised to see Abby do just that.

She says nothing as he slams the door behind him.


	8. Run Forest, Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's not dead and will be finishing this story? ME! 
> 
> Sorry for the HUGE hiatus, really had trouble with this chapter, then kind of forgot about this story...haha...O_O
> 
> But I'm back and so is this mess of sadness. Sorry for the low quality in writing, just...btw...fyi...whatevs.

Bellamy runs from his truck to the front doors of the hospital. He’s half asleep and probably shouldn’t have driven, but he honestly couldn’t care. The call from Raven had been enough to make his stomach drop and his heart race and he was running off of adrenaline and all he wanted was to find Murphy and hold him. 

He doesn’t even look at the ladies at the front desk and runs straight for the elevator. His fingers are shaking as they press the ‘4’ button over and over again. He needs to get up there _now_. 

The doors aren’t closing and he’s panicking and fuck this, he’s taking the stairs. He takes the steps two at a time, ignoring the pain in his calves and thighs. Falling through the door to the fourth floor, Bellamy nearly lands on the floor, only staying on his feet when someone grabs his shoulders and pulls him upright. He looks up and blinks. “Mr. Jaha?”

The man Bellamy recognizes as one of the most influential board members smiles. “Mr. Blake, what seems to be the rush?” He glances up and down Bellamy’s figure, seeing how disheveled he is and changing his smile to a look of disgust. “You certainly aren’t here to work, are you?”

“No…no sir, no, I’m not, I’m looking for a patient, he…left. Oh Jesus he fucking left,”

“Calm down Mr. Blake, who are you looking for?”

“John! Murphy! He…I don’t know…he,”

“Murphy? Oh, yes, I saw him leave about an hour ago, seemed upset.”

“You didn’t stop him?”

“Why should I? He’s off to find his own City of Light. His own…paradise.”

Bellamy has to punch himself in the leg to keep from hitting this asshole. “Are you insane? He’s going to die!”

Soon enough they’re making a big enough scene to gather the attention of Clarke Griffin, then the elder Griffin, and soon Dr. Kane. The three of them are rushing over to Bellamy, Kane stepping between Jaha and he, and Abby and Clarke grabbing Bellamy’s shoulders to pull him away from the other man. “We have someone out there looking for him.”

“Who?”

“Raven.”

“I need to go out there, I need to find him, he could die.”

Abby shook her head. “That’s not a good idea.” Bellamy snapped at her, growling and shaking out of her hold. “Bellamy I’m serious, you’re going to hurt yourself looking for him.”

“And how are you going to stop me?” She opens her mouth, doesn’t manage to get anything out, and he shoves his way past her and back down the stairs. 

He’s calling Raven before he’s even down the first flight, shouting at her through the receiver to tell him where she is _right now_. When she refuses to tell him, he throws his phone to the ground and races down the rest of the stairs. He’s surprised to see Clarke already waiting for him at his truck, a notebook in her hands. 

“Thought you could use some help. Here’s your phone.” She shoves both things into his chest. He looks down at his phone, frowning at the crack, then snapping his head back up at her, ready to ask her how she got his phone and managed to beat him down here. She grins. “Don’t worry about it, now get it, I’ll drive.”

He reads through Murphy’s journal at light speed. He feels partly bad about, reading all the details about Johnathon Murphy’s life. Most of it is about how much pain he’s in, from both the cancer and the chemo. Then he reads one that makes him rethink everything he knows about Murphy.

_Called mom to day. She didnt pick up. Think she hates me stil. Called john to. He said he didnt want to se me b-cuse it would be to sad. I think that I will stop calling them. I think that would make them ~~happer~~ happier. At least I have Bellame. He makes me happier._

The writing is atrocious, both in terms in grammar and in terms of handwriting, but he thinks he gets the idea. He smiles softly at the mention of himself, trying to ignore the rest of the entry. Bellamy flips through the next few pages just glancing at the words, finally stopping when he sees something that might be helpful.

_Wish I could take Bellame to that park bye my old house. I like the tree there. I think he will like it to. May be one day we can go there and I can show him how to clim it. I dont think Bellame has climed alot of trees honestly._

“Do you know where Murphy used to live?”

“You mean like, his house? Like, where he grew up?”

“Yes, Clarke, that’s what I mean.” He grumbles.

“No, I don’t. I don’t think anyone knows. Maybe my mom. Give her a call.”

He does just that. Abby refuses to give out such confidential information at first, then caves when Bellamy starts freaking out over the phone, and sends him the address via text message. He pulls up the house on his phone map, letting Clarke know the general area. He scrolls around the area, finding what he thinks is a park, and marking it as the destination in his GPS.

They make it there in ten minutes flat. 

The car isn’t even stopped when Bellamy opens the door, running straight towards the playground at the park. Unfortunately, it’s a park so there are quite a few trees and he’s frustrated after a few moments of glancing around. He can’t find him and his chest is tightening because what if he was wrong, what if Murphy’s already dead, oh god.

“Bellamy! Over here!” Clarke is sprinting towards a tree in the far back corner of the park, towards the back of the subdivision. He starts running after her. She’s already slowing down, her hand coming up to cover her mouth like she’s going to puke. Bellamy flies past her, placing his hand out to stop himself at the tree. He damn near pukes at the sight.

Murphy is asleep (or dead, he can’t tell), head resting back against the bark, legs outstretched in front of him, skin pale, a small stream of vomit trickling out his lips and a stream of blood out of his nose. He’s on his knees, grabbing Murphy’s head and placing his fingers on his pulse point. “Be alive, be alive.” He prays, closing his eyes.

The slight ‘bu-bump’ of Murphy’s heart has him in tears. “Jesus fuck Murphy, what were you thinking?” He turns to Clarke. “Call an ambulance, now.” She nods and pulls out her phone.

Bellamy picks up the lithe figure in his arms, cradling him close to his chest. Murphy’s not waking up, his breathing hasn’t changed, and he hasn’t moved. He’s not dead though, he’s not dead. That’s all Bellamy needs right now. “Fucking asshole.” He murmurs. “Why do you have to be so reckless, huh? Soon I’ll be laying in the bed next to you due to a massive heart attack. Cause – Johnathon Murphy being a selfish asshole.”

He sits on the curb, letting Murphy rest in his lap and on his arms. He waits for the red and blue lights to flash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you love Murphy like I do, then you know that he's dyslexic or at least has some sort of writing/reading disorder, so I tried to translate that into his journal entries. Hope I did a well enough job.
> 
> ALSO after rereading chapter seven I do realize that there are a lot of continuity errors, and if I have the time to do so, I will go back and fix it, but for now I'm going to just have to let it be.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and critiques are always appreciated *thumbs up emoji*


End file.
